amed softly
like flakes of mica. The fishermen were burning seaweed and jetsam
for ashes which would be used as fertilizer. Tongues of fire were
flickering skywards. It was a blue night. The sky was deep blue, and
the sea an oily greenish blue. Blue flames of salt danced and vanished
over the blazing heaps. The savage figures squatting round the fires
were dressed in tunics of dark blue cloth. Their legs were bare. Their
healthy faces lit up by the blaze were the color of ripe apricots.
Their attitudes and movements were those of apes. The elder men were
chattering together; the younger ones were gazing into the fire with
an expression of healthy stupor. A boat was coming in from the sea.
A ruby light hung at the prow. It was rowed by four men standing and
_yulohing_, two in the stern and two at the bow. They were intoning
a rhythmic chant to which their bodies moved. The boat was slim and
pointed; and the rowers looked like Vikings.

The shadows cast by the moonlight were inky black, the shadows of the
beaked ships, the shadows of the savage huts, of the ape-like men, of
the huge round fish-baskets like immense _amphorae_.

Far out from land, where the wide floating nets were spread, lights
were scattered like constellations. The foreland was clearly visible,
with the high woods which clothed its summit. But the farther end of
the beach faded into an uneven string of lights, soft and spectral as
will-o'-the-wisps. Warmth rose from the sleeping earth; and a breeze
blew in from the sea, making a strange metallic rustling, which to
Japanese ears is the sweetest natural music, in the gaunt sloping
pine-trees, whose height in the semi-darkness was exaggerated to
monstrous and threatening proportions.

Geoffrey felt a little hand in his, warm and moist.

"Shall we go and see _Dai-Butsu_?" said Yae.

Geoffrey had no idea who _Dai-Butsu_ might be, but he gladly agreed.
She fluttered on beside him with her long kimono sleeves like a big
moth. Geoffrey's head was full of wine and waltz tunes.

They dived into a narrow street with dwellings on each side. Some of
the houses were shuttered and silent. Others were open to the
street with a completeness of detail denied by our stingy
window-casements--women sitting up late over their needlework, men
talking round the firebox, shopkeepers adding up their accounts,
fishermen mending their tackle.

The street led inland towards abrupt hills, which looked like a
wall of darkness